


At the Last Second

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M, dead reckoning, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just an 'off the cuff' imagining at what might have happened after the rooftop bomb disarming.  Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Last Second

Title: At the Last Second  
Rating: M  
Pairing: Finch/Reese  
Word Count: 690  
Post Episode: Dead Reckoning

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

It was done....he'd unlocked the phone and disarmed the bomb-vest strapped to his partner's chest. A chest that was now heaving, as John Reese sucked in great gulps of air in relief.

Harold closed his eyes and tilted his head back as much as his fused vertebrae would allow. _He was safe....John was safe.....it was over._ Finch opened his mouth to speak only to have his words break off in an undignified squawk as a pair of strong arms enveloped him.

Reese clung to his partner like a lifeline. But for this brave, stubborn man he would be dead....not thanks to the machinations of Kara Stanton but by his own hands two years ago. Harold Finch had given him so much...his life, hope but most importantly the painful joy of being able to feel again...to _connect_ once more with the world and with others.

John squeezed the smaller man even tighter, ignoring Finch's squeak of protest. Harold was hugging him back and Reese could feel the fragile body trembling against his. He pressed kisses into the damaged neck and along Harold's jawline; inhaling the scents of sweat mingling with five hundred dollar an ounce cologne.

_"Harold....Harold...."_

Finch heard the sound of his name repeated over and over; spoken by the smoky, quiet voice that had become a welcome and familiar background fixture in his daily life. The voice that could send shivers of pleasure or of fear up his spine. The voice that now wrapped him up in comfort every bit as much as the arms that held him so close.

"You're alright John. We're alright." Harold broke off as he felt Reese's lips moving over his neck and face; the warmth of John's breath tickling his ear as the op continued to speak his name. Finch began to shake and all at once the swirling tide of fear, despair, anger and need that had been building in him since the fiasco at the bank, broke over the bulwark of his emotional shell; drowning his defenses.

Reese's eyes flew open in surprise as Finch's lips found his own and began attacking them with feverish intent. He reciprocated happily, his mouth opening beneath Harold's seeking tongue; welcoming the possessive, clinging kisses the recluse pressed on him. John felt his penis begin to swell as Finch's hips ground against his; Harold's own erection obvious.

Harold growled into his mouth, startling the op into a grunt of laughter at his partner's uncharacteristic assertiveness. Finch captured John's lower lip in his teeth and sucked hard as he bucked into the taller man's crotch. 

Reese slipped a hand down between them and stroked Harold's cock through its covering of expensive tweed. The recluse moaned, burying his face in the crook of John's neck as his partner unzipped his slacks and captured his hard shaft in strong fingers. Reese stroked once, twice and was rewarded with a gush of warm, wetness over his hand and Finch's strangled cry of _"John...."_

He held Harold close as the older man's breathing slowed. All at once, Finch went limp. Only John's arms and the death grip Harold had on his coat, keeping the billionaire upright.

"Sorry...." Finch gasped, "adrenaline's worn off."

John leaned up against the air-conditioning unit and adjusted his stance to better support Finch's weight. "I‘m not surprised....." comprehension dawned and he looked down at his boss in awe. 

“You pushed up twenty-one flights of stairs Harold....just to reach me?!”

Finch looked away, his cheeks darkening in the yellowish light of the rooftop lamps. “I had too...I had to get to you before-” 

“S’alright Harold....you did.” John pressed his nose into the thatch of spiky hair, comforting his friend.

Reese discretely zipped Finch’s pants, smirking at the mutter of _’so undignified’_ from his partner. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion at my loft...”

“Perhaps,” Harold replied, looking up into the expressive blue eyes that warmed a part of his soul which had been frozen for so long...”but only _after_ we deal with this.” The clever fingers plucked at the now disarmed vest. 

“I’d rather not have this much ordinance come between us again, Mr. Reese. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, Finch. Let’s go home.” 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

NOTES: Just an off the cuff look at what might have happened after Finch defuses John’s bomb-vest. For what it’s worth, enjoy!


End file.
